Noble Winter
by JillSwinburne
Summary: Will and Elizabeth's daughter meets an elderly Jack. WARNING: character death. NOW SORTED
1. A Life Worth Saving

A/N This was written before the new movie so it has nothing to do with what happens in Pirates 2. Ta

PROLOGUE

He was crouched in the corner of the dank cell. His long grey flecked hair hung in his face and there was large, swollen, bloody knot on his forehead beneath the ragged remains of his old bandana. His breathing was shallow and came in wrenching gasps. When they saw him, the two figures who had been approaching from the stairway rushed along the passage to the bars in front of his cell.

"Good God!" exclaimed the elderly gentleman, his long face drawn in a mask of horror. The young woman with him sank to her knees, her fingers laced through the bars. She was pale and her dark eyes were huge as she gazed upon the wreck of the man before her. She stayed frozen like that while her companion wrestled the key from an ancient mangy dog, huddled under one of the benches on the opposite wall. He fitted it into the lock and swung the cell door open hastily.

Rising and following him into the cell the young woman moved to the side of the injured man and knelt, pulling his head around to look at her.

"Jack?" she said softly. Jack stared, almost blindly before drawing enough ragged breath to speak.

"Elizabeth?" He passed out.

The office of the Commodore of Port Royal was a large, airy room with long windows and pleasant paintings on the walls, but neither these nor the warm Caribbean sunshine were enough to cheer the spirits of the two people who sat there. After some moments of silence the door opened and a man in a blue uniform and white wig strode in.

"Commodore," blurted the young woman, "I simply can't understand how you can justify your treatment of that man!"

"He is a pirate miss," he replied with a slight sneer, "how else do you suggest we treat him?"

"With the respect due to any human being," answered the elderly gentleman who had been silent until now. "It is truly disgraceful that the man should be treated so. When I had you promoted I never thought that it would come to this."

"With all due respect Admiral Norrington, I fail to see that it makes any difference. You are not known as the scourge of the Caribbean pirates for nothing." The old Admiral glared at the blue jacketed buffoon he had had the misfortune to promote.

"Things change Gillette," he said quietly. The young woman had become increasingly restless during this conversation and suddenly stood up.

"Enough of this!" she cried, rounding on the slim figure of Commodore Gillette. "Your conduct in this matter has been inexcusable sir!"

"Really Miss Turner," he said, stepping backwards smoothly, "there is little need for your outburst. Sparrow will hang in eight days time whether he is fit or not and it will make little difference to the hang man."

She turned imploringly to Norrington for help.

"Please uncle James, there must be something you can do."

"I can't reverse the decision of the courts," he said shaking his head sadly, then a thin smile spread across his face, "but I can allow for you to have unlimited access to the prisoner and to be allowed to treat him for his injuries!"

"Not that it'll do much good," muttered Gillette, and added when they both glared at him, "but of course I can't do anything to stop you so of course..." he trailed of as they rose to leave.

"Good day Commodore," snapped the young woman as she brushed past him, "I trust that I will see little of you in the coming days."

And with that they were gone. Commodore Gillette sighed heavily and slumped down into his chair. Damn Norrington, I should have taken that post back in England!

Anne Turner was a lot like her mother. Same eyes, same smile, same fiery temperament but even so it had come as a shock to her to be called by her mother's name by the old pirate in the cell. Of course he was probably delirious, but still... She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing here in Port Royal. She had come to the Caribbean with her uncle, Admiral Norrington after long discussion with her father that she should see something of the world and the Caribbean, under her uncle's care, had seemed a good place to start.

Not that she had never visited before, indeed she had been born there, on that very island in fact but they left when she was five and she had little real memory of the place except her grandfather, now dead and in heaven with her mother. Her father had been rather against her going and had argued with uncle James for hours about it. One night she passed the door to her father's study on the way to bed she heard him cry out in exasperation.

"Really James I hardly think there can be any safety while Sparrow is still lose in the Caribbean!" but the reply was so quiet that she could not hear it.

However, her father's arguments had not been enough to curb her enthusiasm for foreign places and she had thought little of the name that her father had shouted in his anger until a few days before.

They had been on the island of St Thomas, where her uncle had some business. Anne liked it there and they were in the middle of dinner one evening when a naval messenger arrived in a great fuss. The little man had handed his charge to the Admiral who had gone slightly pale.

"Uncle James, whatever is the matter?" she asked, rising and coming to his side.

"I must go to Port Royal," he muttered, his face drawn, "as soon as possible." He looked up at her. "They have captured a man, a man I used to know. I must go immediately." He rose suddenly and took her by both shoulders, his long fingers white at the knuckles from his tight grip. "You must go with me Anne. It is very important!"

"Of course," she replied quickly, suddenly afraid of him, "may I ask who it is they have captured?"

"His name is Jack Sparrow."

Apart from her father's earlier outburst the name meant nothing to her. However it bothered her. Her father had spoken of him as though he were some dangerous criminal and yet her uncle had been deeply effected by the news of his capture. On their journey from St Thomas she questioned him about it but he would say little.

"He was a pirate." he replied under the pressure of her gaze.

"Was?"

"He has not attacked a British ship since before you were born."

"I see."

"No you do not see Anne. Very few people ever really see Jack Sparrow, what they mostly see is shadow," he waved a hand in the air, "smoke and mirrors."

"And have you really seen him?" He looked at her blankly, as though he did not recognise her, then he looked away.

"I like to think that I did, once. However we have not met in many years, I have no doubt that we have both changed much." Then he was silent and would say no more on the matter.

Now he stood on the rampart of the fort and gazed down at the bay.

"Anne, you must look after Sparrow. He is a good man." There was a hint of sadness in his smooth voice.

"Yes uncle, but he seems so badly hurt, I fear there is little I can do for him alone." She knew no doctor would treat a condemned man, what was the point? "Besides, he may take dislike of a stranger at this time." Her uncle chuckled softly under his breath.

"But you are no stranger, Anne my dear. Indeed I should think he will take great comfort in your presence," he paused and glanced at her puzzled, questioning face. "But that is not for me to tell you. Ask him, if he is not delirious." Then he turned and walked back towards the main body of the fort.

"But where will you be?"

"I have work to do, but I shall expect an update on his condition this evening at dinner." And with that he was gone and Anne was alone on the rampart except for a few distant soldiers.


	2. The Past Can Haunt

Jack Sparrow opened his eyes slowly. Images swam in front of his eyes. Sunlight through bars, still in the cell then, honey-blonde hair, brown eyes. He tried to focus.

"Elizabeth?"

"You said that before."

"Who then?"

"Anne."

"Anne?"

"Anne Turner."

"Little Annie..." The world went black once more.

The guards told her he'd been brought in by bounty hunters. Commodore Gillette had been more than happy to pay them, despite the naval policy on receiving tortured prisoners. He had been tried immediately while he was still able to stand but after that he had been left to rot in his cell until the day of his hanging. Now he had a fever, his whole body shivered as his clothes soaked themselves in sweat. He faded in and out of consciousness and was only vaguely coherent. The whole cell stank and was covered in filth. He didn't eat anymore, if he was awake when they brought his food he shrank away from them and cowered in the corner like an animal.

"It's sad," said one of them, a thick set guard with dark hair and large eyes, "my dad met 'im once. Always said he was a one. Talkative and full of trickery. Wanted to meet 'im again but I wouldn't let 'im, thought it might upset 'im. Always speaks very fondly of Captain Sparrow does my dad."

It took Anne three days to get his fever down. She got him moved to a new, specially cleaned, cell with fresh straw on the floor and even a mattress. She cleaned him up, sluicing the hot, soapy water over his tanned body. He twitched painfully when she washed his back, there were long gashes in his flesh there, as though he had been flogged and strips of his shirt were stuck there with blood and sweat.

The ugly knot of blood and bruising on his forehead was swollen and in danger of going septic and she did her best, cleaning it out and tying a fresh linen bandage around his head. She borrowed some of her uncle's old clothes to dress him in and even found a piece of red cloth to make a new bandana. Eventually his unconsciousness turned to the sleep of the exhausted invalid and he didn't toss so much, he stopped mumbling. Anne sat with him long into the night and returned early each morning. On the morning of the fifth day she arrived to find him awake and sitting up, propped in the corner, the mattress folded up around his back to protect it from the rough wall.

"Good morning," she said, smiling broadly as she unlocked the door and slipped into the little room that had been the focal point of her life for the past few days.

"So you're my angel of mercy are you?" he replied, scrutinizing her closely.

"Yes," she paused and her smile left her, "my name is Anne Turner."

"I know. You couldn't be anyone else." A gold capped grin spread across his face. "I knew your mother. I swear you look just like her. At least you don't look like that father of yours, how is the whelp by the way?"

She stared at him in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand you Mr Sparrow."

"Captain love, it's Captain Sparrow or Jack."

"And which do you prefer?"

"Depends," he shifted a little uncomfortably, "seems I recall you used to call me uncle Jack when you was a nipper, but of course you had an uncle James as well an' you used to get us mixed up 'cause you was too small to know. Used to get right up ol' Norrington's nose that did, course I wasn't best pleased about it either but then... I don't suppose you remember any of that."

"Are you trying to tell me that we know each other Captain?" Anne's head was reeling but there was something oddly familiar in his voice, his light tone, his warm brown eyes.

"No, we don't know each other, not anymore." The grin fled from his face as he spoke then returned just as quickly. "I don't suppose you have anything for me to eat?"

Jack ate like a ravenous horse, wolfing down the fruit and bread she had brought, just in case. He also drank a whole pitcher of water, which was understandable considering the amount he had sweated in the last few days. When he was finished he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at her thoughtfully. Anne had kept silent while he ate but now she could contain herself no longer.

"My uncle told me you were a pirate."

"Best damn pirate on the Spanish Maine love."

"Then it's true?"

"Of course it's true. Now don't tell me you've never heard the legend of Captain Jack Sparrow and the Black Pearl?" She shook her head in wonder.

"What's the Black Pearl?"

"She was the best ship ever to grace the water. Fast as the wind and strong as an ox, and her crew were the best I ever sailed with. The second lot that is, Gibbs, Anna-Maria, Cotton and his bloody parrot and all the other seadogs."

"Where are they now?" she asked excitedly, her face flushed with the image of a majestic black ship and her rag-tag crew.

"You really are like your mother you know, she was fascinated with pirates just like you are." Anne's face hardened at his mention of her mother.

"I am not fascinated, I merely asked a question." She instantly regretted her sharp tone but Jack flashed her a smile.

"Sorry love, I shall endeavour only to comment on those things asked of me."

"So what happened to them?" she asked in a kinder tone. The elderly pirate's face turned suddenly serious and the years seemed to pile upon him.

"All gone," he said sadly, staring forlornly up at the golden square of light that was the window. "All gone now."

"Dead?"

"Mostly. Some of the crew moved on, things got too hot for 'em. Gibbs got old, too old, died in his sleep one night. Then I lost the Pearl."

"How?" Anne was breathless with anticipation of the tale but her heart went out to him at the same time, there was such emotion, such loss in his voice.

"We'd just raided a Spanish merchant ship, good haul. We had a big celebration, rum all 'round. We were all asleep when the storm struck, when it was done we were listing, near to scuppers when they attacked us. Pirates of one form or another, right black-heated sods they were. Poor old Cotton got a sword in his gut, near 'nough sliced 'im in two. They even wrung the neck of his parrot. The Pearl went down, I would have gone with her save that damn girl Anna knocked me out and dragged me to one of the boats and away. I never really forgave her for that. Maybe I should have, she swung for thieving the year after, I didn't find out 'till it was too late. Someone told me the priest asked her for her last words and she said, "Long live Jack Sparrow, even the devil wouldn't take him in!" Sounds like her anyway," he stopped and glanced up at Anne and smiled weakly, "and now I'm a poor old man waiting to die in another man's clothes, and the only person who might care doesn't know who I am. Shame ain't it."

Anne coloured at his words and felt suddenly ashamed of herself.

"I do care," she murmured, "but I just don't remember you." There was a long silence. "If you knew me when I was little," she began.

"How come your parents never mentioned me?"

"Yes." Jack looked away.

"Your dad an' me had a bit of a falling out when you was about five. Nothing I could do about it, nothing anyone could do about it, not even old Norrington or your granddad. Turners always were stubborn an' your old man was even worse than his before 'im. So he packed up his family and shipped back to England where, I hear he has done quite nicely for himself."

"Yes, although he has never been quite the same since mother died..." Now it was her turn to look away. Jack's voice, when he spoke was soft and kind.

"I heard about that. I wanted to go to the funeral but... I didn't think it would be quite right. I'm not a religious man Miss Turner but I swear to you that I offered up a prayer to whatever God might have been listening that she got as good a lot in death as she did in life. She was a good woman, kind hearted and beautiful." He patted her shoulder gently. "Let's talk about something else."

And so they did, or rather Jack talked and Anne listened. He was a wonderful story teller, his voice rose and fell in a mesmerising rhythm and he waved his hands in the air to illustrate his speech. He was often interrupted by fits of coughing that wracked his body for a few moments, but they soon passed and he insisted that he was alright so she let him continue.

Late in the afternoon he fell asleep and she left him, climbing the small flight of stairs into the fresh air.

"How is he miss?" asked the guard at the entrance.

"Much better today Mr Mullroy."

"Good, my dad will be ever so pleased when I tell him."


	3. Remembering

She made her way to the lodging she was sharing with her uncle. He too would be pleased with Sparrow's recovery.

Uncle James was already seated in the dining room and his gloomy expression brightened when he saw her smiling.

"I have good news." she said, taking the chair opposite.

"And what could that be?"

"Captain Sparrow is making a good recovery."

"I'm very pleased to hear it my dear."

"Yes," she continued, leaning back, "he is healing up rather nicely."

"Was he coherent?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "May I ask if he is ever entirely coherent?"

Norrington laughed cheerfully. "No, I suppose not."

The footmen brought in their meal and they ate in companionable silence for a while. Anne felt a warm glow from within as she thought about the stories that Sparrow had told her that day. When dinner was finished they withdrew to the small living room and her uncle poured her out a glass of brandy.

"Tell me, what did you talk of with Sparrow?" he asked.

"He told me many wild tales of his adventures."

"Mostly fabrication I would wager," he said jovially, "anything in particular?"

"Yes," she sat forward and closed her eyes in memory of the tale, "he told me about his ship and how the first crew he had, mutinied and left him on an island to die!"

"Gracious! And did he tell you how he got off the island?"

"He roped together a couple of sea turtles and rode them to safety!"

"I see, how very athletic of him." murmured Norrington, a smile playing on his thin lips. He had gotten to know Sparrow rather well before the Turners left for England and knew the reality to nearly all the man's stories, but that was not to deny that they were good stories. But his niece's face had turned troubled and she edged further forward on her chair.

"Uncle James?"

"Yes Anne, what is troubling you?" She looked around the room with wide eyes, as though searching for the correct words.

" Uncle James, Captain Sparrow made mention that he knew me as a child but..."

"Yes?" he had been waiting for this, waiting nervously for her reaction.

"Well, if it is true then why have I never heard mention of him before, not even from you?" He smiled inwardly at her direct approach, so like her mother, direct and to the point.

"What did he tell you?" he asked.

"He said that he and my father had a falling out and that they never spoke again."

"There you have your answer." he replied, taking a sip from his own glass.

"But what was it all about?" She threw her arms in the air in exasperation, almost knocking over her glass which sat on the table beside her. "What could happen between two people that would so disrupt any relations they may have had?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you Anne."

"Why not?" she enquired petulantly.

"Because I must confess that I do not know. No one did, not even your dear mother. She heard the two of them arguing one night and then the next day it was announced that you were leaving for England and none of us knew why except your father and he never told anyone, neither did Sparrow when it comes to that but by that time he had disappeared. He turned up again a couple of days later to plead with him not to go but he wouldn't listen. He's barely been seen since."

Anne was sitting with her mouth open, watching him with her dark eyes. When he was finished she swallowed and closed her mouth.

"I'm afraid that if you want to know anything more you shall have to ask Sparrow." he said. She nodded silently. There was silence for a few moments and then she rose.

"I think I shall retire now uncle, it has been a long day and doubtless tomorrow will be no shorter."

"Good night."

"Goodnight." When she reached the door she turned back to face him. "He said I used to call him "uncle Jack" and that it used to annoy you when I got the two of you mixed up."

"I must admit to a certain amount of jealousy. You were never that fond of me as a child and he was everything to you. That, I think, is something else which your father never entirely forgave him for."

She did not reply but slipped out and up to her own room. There she lit the lamp and crossed to the dressing table where sat a little wooden box. She took a small golden key from her pocket and opened it carefully. It contained her most prized treasures which she had collected all her life. There was a sharks tooth that her uncle had given her on a visit to England, a letter opener shaped like a sword that had been a present from her father, an old ring of her grandfather's, a locket which had belonged to her mother, some odd, smooth pebbles that she had grown very attached to at the age of nine and... there it was. She unwrapped the long strand from the soft paper it was twisted in.

It was a string of beads; red ones, blue ones, gold ones, green ones, ones that were wooden and ones that were made of metal and there was a flat golden disc, like a small coin at one end. It had hung over her cot when she was small, she remembered her father trying to throw it away when they left for England but she wouldn't let him and after a while he gave up. At one time it had been a hair braid and she had a faint memory of her mother untwining the beads from the dark dreadlock and rethreading them on the piece of string on which they now hung, jangling softly as they swung from her hand. Hair beads, just like the ones that Jack had.

She set the braid aside and went to bed but she slept little and her dreams were filled with angry waves and sad brown eyes crying for lost friends. She rose before dawn and ate a small breakfast before going to the gaol.

When she got there Jack too was already awake, although the sun had barely taken the chill off the receding night. She crouched down and held out the braid.

"I think this belongs to you," she said quietly. He reached out a brown hand and took it from her. He looked up at her and the glance that passed between them said all that needed to be said by way of reconciliation.

"Thank you," he replied and managed to smile weakly.

"What did you and my father fight about?" she asked. He carefully looped the braid into his silvering hair and looked away.

"It was a long time ago."

"Do you mean you don't remember?"

"I mean I did my damage to your family a long time ago," he looked back at her and smiled kindly, "and I don't fancy bringing it up again." She took this in and nodded.

"Another time then."

"When they put me in my gibbet, that would be a good time." His sarcastic tone faltered slightly as he spoke. She sighed and then moved around beside him on his little mattress. She leaned her head gently against his shoulder.

"Talk to me," she said.

"About what?"

"It doesn't matter," she closed her eyes and shifted to make herself comfortable, "just talk."

So he talked, about anything that came to his head; about his friends, about the Pearl, about the sea. As he spoke he slipped his arm around her shoulders and, after a while she fell into a peaceful sleep.

When the guards came to give Sparrow his breakfast they were both asleep so they left it outside the cell and left them. After all Sparrow wasn't going to get many more peaceful nights.


	4. The Truth Will Out

"But you have to escape!"

"Oh really, and just how do you intend I do that young Missy?"

"How should I know, your Captain Jack Sparrow, your the one who's escaped from ports and gallows all over the world!"

"Not without a certain amount of help, and who's going to help me? Uncle Norrington?"

It was the afternoon of the next day and they were carrying out their argument in angry whispers. Anne had woken that morning with the sudden realisation that Jack would hang the next day unless something was done. She knew her uncle couldn't help and there was no chance of a reprieve from Commodore Gillette, so she had decided it was up to her to help Jack escape.

"If you wore a disguise you could get passage on a ship to England."

"Why England?"

"Anywhere you want, it doesn't matter!" There were tears in her eyes as she tried to shake him by the front of his shirt. "You can't just give up!" She began to cry silently and he put his arms around her.

"Come on love," he whispered in her ear, "don't be like that." She looked up at him and tried to wipe her eyes. "Where would I go eh? An old pirate like me? Who'd take me in?"

"I would." she mumbled. He gave her a kindly golden grin.

"I know you would love. I know you would but I'm too old to start everything over again." She wriggled out of his arms and looked at him defiantly.

"You can't simply deprive me of an uncle I've only just met!"

He leaned against the wall and sighed, casting his eyes up to where the light flooded in through the little barred window. For a long time he was silent, then he nodded at her.

"Alright. If it makes you any happier I'll try, but we have to do this quietly." She hugged him and made him wince. "After all," he muttered to himself, "a sparrow shouldn't die in a cage."

The sun was bright in the sky on the morning of Jack's hanging. The wooden gallows had been erected in the courtyard of the fort the night before and the hangman was busy making last minute adjustments. Other than that all was quiet, the crowd having not yet gathered for the spectacle. In his cell Jack Sparrow was having breakfast under the tense gaze of his accomplice.

"And your certain you remember the signal?" she asked him for what seemed the thousandth time.

"Yes."

"Certain?"

"Absolutely bloody positive love." She fell silent and took to fidgeting.

"Jack..." she said after a while.

"Look," he replied in exasperation, "it isn't a difficult plan, I remember everything fine and you'll only make yourself more worried by thinking about it o'er much, savvy?" She stared at him.

"Not what you were going to say?" She shook her head. "Sorry love, what was it?"

"I just wanted to know," she paused as though considering her next words carefully, "in case this doesn't go quite... according to plan."

"You mean if I swing."

"Yes. I just wanted to know, since this might be the last chance I get to talk to you, what happened between you and my father?" Jack gave a heavy sigh.

"You really want to know?" She nodded enthusiastically.

"All right then, although you probably won't like it. The thing that your old man and me fought about was your mam."

"My mother?"

"Yes. You see one day I came along for a visit, risking life and limb to be in Port Royal as usual, well your dad comes out to meet me in a fine mood, asks what's been going on between me and Elizabeth. Of course I didn't know what he was talkin' about, took me hours to get it out of him. Seems that some nights before your dear mother happened to say my name aloud in her sleep and your da had a couple of days to stew about it before he spoke to me and had managed to build it up into some ridiculous accusation against me!" He looked at her face carefully. "I told you you wouldn't like it." She shook her head in disbelief.

"But, you and he were friends, why would he accuse you of such a thing! Didn't he ask my mother?"

"Apparently not. He always was quick to judge, just like his dad before him. Decisions now, consequences later, that's how it was with both of them. Not that I really blame him, I mean I did spend a rum sodden night on a deserted island with your mother before they got married. If she ever told him about that I can see why he would be angry."

"How can you be so kind!" she asked incredulously. "He treated you despicably and you sit there and forgive him for it!" Jack shrugged quietly.

"I've been treated despicably and treated others despicably all my life, especially by your family. There's no such thing as honour amongst thieves, just a kind of pitiful understanding."

There was the sound of footsteps from above and the voices of the guards as they came down the steps.

"Try not to worry about it love," he whispered quickly, winking at her devilishly as he got to his feet. "Good morning gentlemen."

"Morning sir," said Mr Mullroy Jnr, "and to you Miss Turner."

"Good morning." she murmured quietly, regaining her composure.

"I'm afraid it's time," said the guard, "Admiral Norrington requests that you join he and Commodore Gillette miss." She nodded resolutely and turned to Jack.

"It was an honour to meet you Captain Sparrow."

"Same to you love," he replied calmly and smiled after her as she left. "She likes me," he told the guards who smiled cautiously, not used to prisoners being cheerful on their way to the noose. They bound his hands and lead him up to the waiting sunshine and the expectant crowd.


	5. The Death of a Good Man

Anne slipped up beside her uncle and the Commodore, her eyes fixed on the slim figure making his way up the steps of the gallows.

"Ah, Anne, there you are," said Norrington absently, "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she had," rejoined Gillette in a high nervous voice, "she has seen little else of the fort except the gaol for the last few days. I'd be amazed if she had known there was a square here had you asked her yesterday." He laughed shrilly, ignoring the scathing glances of his superior officer and his young niece.

"Indeed," muttered the Admiral. On the podium an elderly man had begun to read off the list of Jack's crimes: theft, assault of officers of the British navy, piracy, impersonating various people of status including officers and members of the clergy and many more, it seemed as though they would all die of old age before the list was complete. As the old man spoke Anne looked around carefully, counting the guards.

The drums began to beat as the official finished his list. Anne began to fan herself against the uncomfortable heat. Her breathing became irregular and she leant on the Commodore's arm for support.

"Is something wrong Anne?" asked her uncle.

"I... I feel... faint. I feel faint!" A frown passed across the elderly Admiral's handsome face and was quickly replaced by a grim smile. "Anne," he began but he did not get a chance to finish as she dropped, pulling the light frame of Gillette with her.

The drums stopped but Anne, apparently recovering rather quickly from her faint was already on her way towards the gallows, skirts flying. There Jack had succeeded in kicking the hangman squarely between the legs just as the drummers finished their roll. He ducked three guards as they careered towards him and took a running dive from the gallows and landed heavily with a grunt of pain. Anne was already beside him, slicing his bonds with the sword she had removed from the Commodore. Together they charged through the crowd, under the arch, across the flat to the alcove where the bell hung and looked down to see... and empty sea.

"I thought you paid for a boat!" Jack shouted.

"I did, the stupid sod must have drunk the money and forgotten." Anne's tone was desperate as they turned to try and go back the way they had come only to come face to face with Gillette and his men who surrounded them.

"This," Jack muttered from the corner of his mouth, "would be an opportune moment to panic." They looked into the grim faces of the soldiers and their leader. Gillette looked as though he were about to say something when Norrington appeared, a face like thunder.

"Lower your weapons!" he commanded. Gillette's men complied. There was a tense silence and Sparrow, appearing from behind Anne's shoulder began to chuckle dryly.

"I'm too old for all this," he said, turning to Norrington, "you and me both. This scene is somewhat familiar, don't you think Admiral?" Norrington suppressed a smile.

"Indeed Captain. Interesting how history repeats itself." As he spoke Jack moved forward until he was face to face with his old adversary and friend.

"But we both know it's not going to," he said, his voice just audible over the noise of the sea, the remains of a faint smile playing on his weather worn face. "Not now. No more Pearl to save me. No more Gibbs or Anna-Maria. No more Cotton, not even a bloody parrot. Just...," he waved a hand in the general direction of the horizon, "... her."

"Yes." replied Norrington, his face solemn.

"That's how the story ends." said Jack softly.

"The Legend of Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack chuckled again. "Always thought that had a nice ring to it. But you know what the problem with legends is?" he tapped the Admiral's shoulder conspiratorially. "All the people in 'em are dead."

"I understand it's often the case." The two men stared at each other in silence.

"Jack?" Anne murmured uncertainly. He blinked and seemed to come out of a trance. With amazing agility he bounded to the edge of the cliff and stood facing them. He cocked his head in thought while looking at Anne.

"You should have had a hat with a feather in," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Remember me to your father. Tell him... tell him I always thought he was a good man." Then he straightened and called out across the fort.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you will always remember this as the day..." he stopped and smiled. "Oh, he knows what I mean." he added, waving a hand at Norrington. Then he turned his back on them all. Face to the wind, arms raised above his head. The gentle breeze made the beads in his hair tinkle. He stood there for a moment that lasted an eternity and then he was gone.

It was not a fall but a flight. As he plummeted towards the water Jack Sparrow spread his wings, feeling as light and free as his name. A sparrow shouldn't die in a cage. And then the sea, the one mistress to whom he had always been faithful, opened her arms and welcomed him home.

The people on the cliff stared in disbelief.

"I'll send some men down to fetch the body." said the Commodore.

"You'll do no such thing," replied Norrington, breaking his silence. He looked carefully at Anne as he spoke. "Sparrow belonged of the sea, let him remain there."

EPILOGUE

William Turner received a letter in the early spring from his daughter. This was her second since leaving for the Caribbean, the first had told of how much she was enjoying her stay there and came with the best wishes of James as well as her own. As he opened it he hoped for something in the same strain and had been looking forward to reading it since it had arrived at breakfast that morning. However the letter was brief, it read:

Dear father,

It is my duty to inform you of the death of Captain Jack Sparrow, a man you once counted as a friend. He took his own life, leaping from the cliff into the bay of Port Royal after a failed attempt at escape from the gallows in which I was his accomplice. Please note that I am in no trouble as uncle James was able to smooth things over with Commodore Gillette.

Captain Sparrow need not have taken this action but that he seemed to think it his time to go. Beforehand he was good enough to tell me of the events which lead to our leaving the Caribbean when I was a child but discussion of that can wait until I return home. It may be of interest to you to know that he bore you no ill for your accusation and indeed asked me to relay to you that he had always thought you a good man.

Yours, as ever, Anne.

Will put down the letter and placed his head in his hands. When he looked up there were tears in his eyes. He gazed at the portrait of his dear wife which hung over the fireplace. She looked back at him blankly.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. He put his head back in his hands. "Oh Jack, I'm so very sorry."

THE END


End file.
